Two Weddings and a Baby

by Scarlett Bailey

  ‘Jed?’ Tamsyn called up the stairs, as Jed had stopped talking. Well, she told herself, she could always just pretend that she was looking for a bathroom. She climbed the stairs as noisily as possible, humming as she went, and when she got to the landing called his name again.

  ‘In here!’ he called her from the front bedroom. Tamsyn was quietly relieved to see that this room looked like a normal person actually lived in it. It was lined with photographs, had a bookshelf full of books and a desk in the corner, where Tamsyn supposed he wrote sermons, perhaps in his pyjamas, gazing thoughtfully out of the windows, an image that gave her cause to remind herself that she was not a character in The Thorn Birds.

  ‘Oh good,’ she said out loud, looking around the room.

  ‘“Oh good” what?’ Jed asked. He was standing by the window peering into a small notebook. The strong sunlight picked up the gold in his smooth, straight hair, and Tamsyn was sure that if she happened to run her fingers through it, it would be silky-soft to the touch. ‘I left my bedroom window open and can you believe that the only thing to get soaked was my address book?’

  ‘You still have an address book?’ Tamsyn said. ‘And it was an “Oh good you do have at least one furnished room in your house, so maybe you aren’t a crazed psychopath after all”.’

  ‘Oh that,’ Jed said. ‘I always forget that people find that weird, but I don’t know why. I’m one man; why would I want to fill up empty rooms with things that I have no need for? Truly this house is too big for me. I asked them to let me have a cottage, and to rent this out to a local family at an affordable price, but there’s some sort of covenant in the deeds that means it has to be the vicar of St Piran’s that lives here. It’s such a waste. I really want to use the rooms for something purposeful. I’ve been on at the bishop about it since I arrived, and I’m making progress, slowly.’

  ‘But you don’t even have a living room?’ Tamsyn asked him, looking around. ‘Not even a telly?’

  ‘I’ve got a laptop, if I want to watch a movie,’ Jed smiled. ‘No, this is the first house I’ve ever lived in as an adult. I don’t think I will ever get used to it.’

  ‘Where did you live before?’ Tamsyn exclaimed. ‘Institutions? Prison?’

  Jed grinned. ‘I did flat shares at university, and then … well, in the army I was in barracks.’

  ‘The army?’ Tamsyn repeated to herself. Jed gestured towards a photo on the wall of a group of young men in dress uniform. ‘That’s me, and some of the guys. I joined up as a padre; they make you an officer at the same time. It seemed like the logical thing for me to do. I’d just been ordained, and I was full of fiery passion. I wanted to be somewhere where I felt I could really be of use and help people. Iraq was my first post.’ He paused for a moment as he looked at the photo. ‘Then Sierra Leone and Rwanda, and finally Afghanistan.’

  Tamsyn didn’t really know what to say, so she didn’t say anything. Instead she stared for a long time at the faces of the young men in the photograph. Jed was still exceptionally good-looking, back then, his hair as golden as his tan, but there was something entirely different about him. In the photo he was laughing, and there was this light in his eyes. He looked at ease with the world, and there was a kind of surety about him that wasn’t there now, despite the quiet strength he seemed to exude. Perhaps he missed his life of adventure; rattling around in a house that was too big for him in sleepy Poldore was about as far from anything interesting as any person could be, unless a person was very interested in crocheting.

  ‘So, how did you end up here?’ she asked him.

  ‘I left the army, and the church thought this was a good spot for me.’ Jed shrugged, peering at his address book. ‘I wonder if that’s an eight or a zero …’

  ‘You didn’t want to work in an inner city, or a prison or something?’ Tamsyn asked him. ‘After the things you’ve seen, isn’t all this … “niceness” a bit boring?’

  Jed looked thoughtful, bowing his head.

  ‘It’s not boring,’ he said after a while. ‘It’s just as real a life as any.’

  ‘But does it fulfil you, I mean?’ Tamsyn asked him.

  Jed looked back at his soggy address book, and Tamsyn noticed how his grip on the object tightened slightly, along with the muscles in his jaw. What had she said to elicit that response, she wondered? She was fairly sure she hadn’t said anything that offensive.

  ‘You know what? I think I’ll ask Sue. Sue has the name, address and, more often than not, front-door key to almost every house in the town. She’ll be bound to help me get sorted.’

  ‘OK,’ Tamsyn said, taking the hint. ‘I just came to tell you, the power is still out, so I’ll take Mo back to Castle House to feed her there.’

  ‘Oh, OK,’ Jed said. ‘I need to sort a few things, so …’

  ‘Right, well, bye then,’ Tamsyn said.

  ‘Bye.’ Jed turned back to look out of the window, though when Tamsyn looked up as she passed the house on her way back, he was no longer there.

  There was no time to reflect on the abrupt change of mood of the vicar when Tamsyn got back to Castle House, as there was an official-looking reception committee waiting for her in the kitchen. Sergeant Dangerfield was sitting at the table with a mug of tea and a large plate of sandwiches in front of him. Another woman, who Tamsyn guessed straight away was the social worker, was sitting next to him, but as Mo had now decided in earnest that she was hungry, they both had to wait as Tamsyn made up her bottle, conscious all the time that she was being watched and judged. She warmed the bottle, performing what now seemed like a regular ritual of wafting Mo from side to side at the same time as jiggling her up and down, while she did it.

  ‘So,’ Tamsyn sat down with Mo in her arms, ‘any news?’

  ‘About the mother? Not yet,’ Sergeant Dangerfield said, regretfully. ‘But the team in St Austell have been on to the local news, and there’s a film crew hoping to get here today, as the main roads through are already improving. So they’ll do a little film of you, and appeal for the mother to come forward and get help. And the recording will go out on the radio too.’

  ‘Good,’ Tamsyn said. ‘Except the power is still out, so I’m not sure how anyone will be able to listen in.’

  ‘They’re working to get the power back on today,’ Sergeant Dangerfield told her. ‘Oh, and this is …’

  ‘I’m Tess Jameson.’ The woman, who had a pleasant, kind face, stretched her hand out across the table, and then, seeing that Tamsyn had her own hands full, withdrew it again. ‘Nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you from Ms Montaigne.’ She blinked. ‘A lot.’

  ‘Ah, Sue,’ Tamsyn smiled. ‘I hope at least some of it was good?’

  ‘Oh, she’s very impressed with you,’ Tess assured her. ‘So first of all, thank you for taking Baby on. I know it must have been quite a responsibility for you, to be landed with her like that.’

  ‘Well, it was a shock,’ Tamsyn admitted. ‘But what else was I going to do?’

  ‘Why are you here?’ Tamsyn looked up and saw Kirsten in the doorway. She didn’t look as if she had slept a wink last night, but it was Tess she was focused on. ‘Are you here about me?’

  ‘Hello, Kirsten.’ Tess obviously knew the girl. ‘No, love, we’re not due a meeting for another couple of weeks, are we?’

  ‘Well, why are you there then?’ Kirsten advanced another step into the room, glancing briefly at Tamsyn. ‘Is it about Chris?’

  ‘No, the baby.’ Tess nodded at Mo.

  ‘You met her last night, remember?’ Tamsyn asked Kirsten.

  ‘You’re going to take it away?’ Kirsten asked. ‘Into care?’

  ‘Well …’ Tess looked uneasy. Obviously she didn’t really feel like she could continue the conversation with Kirsten there, but she didn’t have a reason to send her away. Tamsyn watched the teenager closely, the way her shoulders were turned ever so slightly away from her, the way she couldn’t bring herself to look at Mo. Last night she hadn’t had any reac
tion at all to the baby, but today, she seemed both interested and frightened at the same time.

  ‘Well,’ Tess focused her attention back on Tamsyn. ‘The good news is that the roads are clear, although we don’t have any suitable foster-carers available to take Baby right away …’

  ‘Mo. She’s a she and her nickname is Mo,’ Tamsyn said, feeling herself unexpectedly bristle with irritation. Kirsten took a few more steps into the room and opened the fridge.

  ‘That’s sweet,’ Tess’s smile was warm and kind and Tamsyn had no doubt that the sentiment was genuine, yet she found herself rapidly cooling to the other woman, her hold on Mo tightening just a little. Tess continued, ‘So anyway, to cut a long story short, I will be able to take Mo off your hands today. Now, actually.’

  ‘Now?’ Tamsyn asked. ‘Like, right now?’

  ‘We’ll wait till she’s finished her feed,’ Tess chuckled. ‘Oh, can you make a note of what brand of formula you’ve been giving her, so we can make sure we use the same one?’

  ‘Where will you take her?’ Tamsyn asked her. ‘If there aren’t any foster-parents?’

  ‘Are you taking her to a home?’ Kirsten asked, holding a carton of orange juice. ‘Already? But it’s too soon.’

  Tess glanced irritably at the girl, and Tamsyn wondered if she really could spot the very large red flags that were popping up all around the room. Kirsten’s interest in the baby had to mean more than she was letting on.

  ‘To a hospital for a few more days, so her health can be monitored, and then, if we still haven’t had any luck with foster-carers, there are care homes. But it probably won’t come to that, and after all the paperwork’s done we’ll be able to find her a permanent adoptive family easily. There are always people who want to adopt babies.’

  ‘Whoa, hold on.’ Tamsyn pushed her chair back a little, increasing the distance between Mo and Tess by a few inches, and glancing at Kirsten. ‘We still don’t know that her mother is out of the picture. I know I feel like I’ve been up for a decade, but actually this only happened yesterday. You’re moving too fast. We need to give the mum a chance to think about what’s happened, to realise that things might not be as bad as she thinks they are. We need to give her a chance to come forward and get some help. And what about the TV crew? They’ll want to film Mo, so you can’t take her now.’

  ‘Of course, we’re still doing all we can to find the mother, and help her if and when she comes forward,’ Tess said. ‘That remains one of our top priorities, but we have to think of all eventualities for Baby.’

  ‘Mo,’ Tamsyn said firmly. ‘Her name is Mo, and I don’t want you to take her today. I’m not going to let you.’

  Tamsyn saw the faintest ghost of a smile on Kirsten’s face as she poured herself a glass of juice. It seemed like this castle was full of young girls who needed someone in their corner. And Tamsyn had been that girl, once; God only knows what would have happened to her if her family and friends had given up on her when she was making terrible choices and getting into all sorts of trouble. Who was doing that job for Kirsten?

  There was a pause, and Tess and Sergeant Dangerfield exchanged looks, looks that very much said Tamsyn was getting overemotional. And perhaps she was, but what else was one human being supposed to do when it came to the welfare of another – just shrug and look away? Tamsyn straightened her back and remembered the time that she had to march an internationally renowned supermodel out of the building because she’d threatened one of their dressers with a pair of serrated-edged scissors. She could take down Tess Jameson, no trouble, she told herself.

  ‘I see you’ve become attached to Baby,’ Tess said, ever so kindly. ‘And that’s lovely, but I have to remind you that you don’t actually have any say over what happens to her.’ Tamsyn felt a cold drench of fury just as Sue walked into the room and leant against the counter, for once remaining silent as she assessed the situation. ‘We temporarily authorised you to care for Baby under exceptional circumstances, but now those circumstances have passed and we are able to take her into our care.’

  ‘But that makes no sense,’ Tamsyn said. ‘I’ve been looking after Mo for the first twenty-four hours of her life, during which time I’ve pretty much never put her down, and I’ve got the backache to prove it. She knows me. I’m the one that makes her feel safe. I know it’s not my job, I know it can’t be my job for ever, I don’t having any hopes of keeping her. But what I will do, if it is the very last thing I do, is make sure that she feels safe and secure until there is a proper and certain future for her, whenever that may be. Everyone deserves at least that, especially her. And she won’t get it in some plastic crib on a ward in a hospital, no matter how kind the nurses are. And she won’t get that in a children’s home or with foster-carers, who she’ll just start to get to know before you take her away again.’ Tamsyn shook her head resolutely. ‘I’m not letting you take her until you can demonstrate to me that you have a safe, caring and as good as permanent home for her. And that’s after you’ve done everything you can to make sure, first, that there isn’t any hope of her being reunited with her mother.’ She looked at Sergeant Dangerfield. ‘You can arrest me if you like.’

  Tamsyn glanced at Sue, who nodded in approval.

  ‘You see,’ Sergeant Dangerfield said rather gingerly, ‘you don’t actually have any legal right to …’

  ‘Oh, don’t be so ridiculous, Jeff,’ Sue stepped in. ‘And you, Mrs Jameson. I know you have a difficult job to do, and there are rules and regulations. But look at that baby! She is a little person. A human being, not just a statistic. And more than that, she is a Poldore baby, and I don’t know about you St Austell lot, but in this town we look after our own, including her mother, whoever that may be. You know full well that, if you want to, you can let the baby stay here until either you find her mother or proper arrangements have been made. You just need to extend the temporary care order that was issued for Tamsyn and Jed. It’s easy enough.’

  ‘We can’t just bend the rules like that,’ Tess insisted. ‘Not even for you, Ms Montaigne. Not for anyone.’

  ‘It’s always got to be all by the book,’ Kirsten said. ‘Even if the book is full of crap.’

  ‘Kirsten, I really don’t think you are helping …’

  ‘She’s right, though. Of course you can bend the rules,’ Sue said briskly. ‘All you have to do is decide to be decent about it. Decide what is really and truly best for the child and act on it. It’s awfully simple if you think about it.’

  ‘Well, even if that were a possibility,’ Tess argued, ‘I don’t know how long this is going to take. ‘Miss Thorne has been very good about caring for Baby …’

  ‘Her name is Mo,’ Sue said.

  ‘Thus far,’ Tess continued, her feathers almost visibly ruffled and puffed out. ‘But I understand that you live and work in Paris, Miss Thorne? Will you still be here next week, or the week after that? Or in a month, if, heaven forbid, it takes that long?’

  Tamsyn hesitated, thinking of next year’s Fall collection that needed pulling together, and all the work they had to do to get ready for fashion week in October. Bernard hadn’t even wanted her to come to the wedding at all; he’d been horrified at the idea of her taking a few days’ holiday, especially when he was on the brink of agreeing a highly lucrative deal with a high-street chain to mass-produce a very watered-down range of his clothing. He had only relented because she promised to be constantly at his beck and call when she got back for at least a solid year, including Christmas and New Year. Her life, her exciting, busy, glamorous, cosmopolitan life that she had worked for almost every moment since she was an adult, was in a state of suspended animation, just waiting for her to come back again and step right into the middle of its whirling, wonderful vortex. Annoyingly, Tess Jameson did have a point. How long was she prepared to make this stand?

  She hesitated, looking down at Mo, who, having drained the bottle, had pushed the teat out of her mouth and was now sleeping, her tiny profile turned toward
s Tamsyn, as if she needed reassurance that she was still there. Really, they were nothing at all to do with each other; there was no blood relation, no sense of being beholden or responsibility. Yes, Mo was a Poldore baby, but Tamsyn hadn’t thought of herself as a Poldore woman for a very long time, for quite a long time before she’d actually left if she wanted to be specific, and yet … Every day a great many people knowingly placed their trust in her to do what was right, to get the collections in on time, to make sure the right fabrics were on order, in exactly the right amount, to book models that would show the clothes off in exactly the way Bernard had envisioned them. Hundreds of people made conscious decisions to depend on her. Mo hadn’t had that choice; she hadn’t ever had a moment where she was able to decide to rely on Tamsyn. She simply did, and Tamsyn knew that the baby trusted her, with the simple certainty of a brand-new human. And Tamsyn realised with a sudden and terrifying jolt that, based on their very short acquaintance, she would never betray that trust. She would not let Mo down, no matter what or how long it took, or what it cost her. And she wouldn’t let Kirsten see her walking away from someone who needed her.

  ‘I’ll be here for her,’ she said. ‘For as long as it takes for you to settle her properly. I won’t go back to Paris until she is taken proper care of.’

  ‘Come on, Tess,’ Sue said, sitting down and smiling in that frighteningly predatory way she had when she had her target in her sights. ‘Don’t tell me you can’t do a bit of jiggery-pokery and extend that temporary care order? It’s not like Tamsyn is alone, either. You have our vicar here backing her up, and she’s welcome to stay here with us for as long as she needs to. Her sister is a nanny with an NVQ3 in childcare, and I’m a mother of three. Look at Mo, look at her. What do you honestly believe in your heart is the best thing to do for that baby?’